Long Form Roleplayers

Detective William Banks:
It is 1937, Chicago. The lower East side is the roughest part of this booming growing city. There are people everywhere in this city and the population just keeps growing. You can not go anywhere in the city without bumping or plowing into another soul. The city just got it’s first L system, which is the slang term for The Elevated Train. I will say it is a great feature to the city, you and move anywhere quickly. At night, those tracks are haven for the most unsavory characters. Oh yeah, my name is William Banks, Detective William Banks. I work for the Chicago PD in homicide.

The lower east side of the city is known for its affection for horror. I have been there for 4 years dealing with the darkest worst cases you can imagine. Murders, rapes, gang wars, heavy street violence and things that are too horrible to mention...ever. And in recent days things have gotten more gruesome. There have been a string of attacks focused in the dark back alleyways of the city. These murders are ruthless. the victims are torn apart, limb from limb, some devoured. I mean real horror movie looking shit. Now all the victims ironically enough are the Chicago PD’s wanted list. Thugs, gang lords, drug pushers, and murders, the real scum. I am not sure anyone, no matter your crime, deserves to die that horribly.

The case was opened 7 weeks back called “The Gruesome Alley.” So far after 5 attacks and 12 victims there is no real evidence as to a suspect. Now I am all for putting these thugs away, but I have to agree with the police officers on this one. We do not need some murdering anti-hero running the streets of our city.

Tonight should not have been any different from any other week night I have had, but I could not shake this feeling that I was being watched. Ever since I left the station I have had this deep unsettling feeling that I am being watched. So naturally every chance I get I look back over my shoulders, into the shadows, but I see nothing. The air is cooler tonight as I make my way to the L train to head home...alone, but hey I put in a good day’s worth of work. Another dead end trail of evidence on the Gruesome Alley killer, but eventually we will catch him. I stand on the platform of the L train, alone, surprised no one is around. From the distance on the rooftops there deep shadows one I swear moved. I freak out some then rub my eyes, seeing nothing is there. I must be working way too hard. I hear the roar of the train coming. I am ready to get home.

Volos:
The new detective investigating my reign of terror left the scene of my latest atrocities hours ago. I have followed him back to the station where what passes for law enforcement in a lawless city congregates. The foolishness of humans never ceases to astound me, even after all these centuries I have walked among them, sometimes to their horror, sometimes invisible to their eyes. I am doing the work they have proved unable to accomplish themselves - culling the herd of those who prey on their own. I feast on the predators. There can be only one at the top of the food chain. And yet it is me who the enforcers hunt.

I follow this detective after he reports to his superiors and leaves for his home. I trail him, just close enough for him to sense my presence. The presence of a seven-foot four-hundred-pound Wolf Lord with the powers of Shadow is hard to ignore, even as I stay out of sight. I can tell his skin crawls at the sensation of being watched. I find it especially delicious that this human seeks clues to my “crimes” but departs just before I find my next prey.

I move with wolven speed to where my new targets have planned their next crime. They are led by a particularly vile overlord improbably named “Benny Mix.” I have taken to the rooftops to approach unseen on my softly padded paws. They meet in an alley in a poor part of town. Perfect. I swing down on the fire escapes, making sure my massive form passes in front of a streetlight, casting my shadow into the alley. As I land, I allow myself a moment to rip the throat from their lookout, his blood curdling scream alerting the others as he perishes. I cast a weak Darkness spell, enough to dim the streetlights.

They will still see me, I have no need for stealth now. I want them filled with horror, their blood running cold in their veins before I spill it. I rush in, too quickly for them to aim accurately, but their guns fire. Two bullets find me, as if I can be much damaged by human weapons, but my foreclaws rip the throat out of one of the crime tribes as I kick my hind leg at another. The talons slice through the second’s abdomen so cleanly that he does not know he is injured until he sees his entrails tumble out of his gutted body.

I am blocking their main escape, some try to fight me, they fall first. One’s head splatters against one wall while the rest of him splashes across the alley. Another drops to the pavement, his hamstrings torn out, helpless for me to finish later. Others run in terror, screaming. The residents of the nearby buildings peek out their windows, they know what I am and what I do. Some close the curtains to be spared watching the atrocity, others watch in quiet satisfaction as those who victimized them for years are now themselves victims. None call the authorities.

One by one, the criminals fall, some disemboweled, others decapitated, a few with their throats torn out (I do have a fondness for throats). Benny Mix is the last I leave standing. Not exactly standing. He drops to his knees, begging for mercy. There is no mercy from this Dark Angel of Death. I approach him slowly, giving him time to consider his demise. I am gratified to see that his trousers are soaked with his own piss and his smell indicates he has lost control of his bowels. I grip his head, my claws in his scalp, and I squeeze until I hear his skull crack and collapse, his brains erupting from the cracks and split scalp. A fitting end for a criminal mastermind, I think.

I must clean up so my host does not smell the carnage on me when I give my body over to him…..

Detective William Banks:
I still can’t shake that feeling of being watched I had from leaving the station. My senses are never off, but I never saw anything. Well I saw a shadow move, but that may simply be my mind playing tricks on me. I make my way home, exhausted from the day’s work. Long days and often longer nights will wear a man down. Plus it is the best feeling in the world coming to an empty flat --- I say to myself sarcastically. I get to my flat door, pull the keys, get inside and turn on one small light that dimly lights my small one room home. I am a simple man...my life is all about my job. So of course I have no time for anyone in my life. No real relationships and so those needs I bury in me. I ignore them, they are a distraction from the job. I walk a few short steps to the kitchen and grab a glass of water, and then I look over to the end table in the small living room that sits next to the kitchen, there stands a picture of my dad. My dad was and still is my hero. He was a cop for Chicago, he was my inspiration to join the force. He was a strong man, taking care of all of those around him, no matter the personal cost. But he did carry a lot of heavy burdens and to this day I have no clue what they were, but he took them to his grave.

My body gets cold as I think back to the night my father was murdered...grimly murdered. My father’s death was some 5 years ago, it was the push for me to switch from a life as a cop to a career as a detective. My mother died when I was young from an influenza epidemic that swept through the city when I was teenager. Then it was just me and Dad. We became inseparable, we were the best of buds, he was my hero. My father could do no wrong, a real hero taking down the waves of crime and lawlessness in our city. But I always remember my dad seeming sad. I assumed he missed my mother, but I was never sure. He was often on the phone late at night angry with someone, as I would hear from my bedroom. I just always assumed it was whatever case or duty he had been put on. He died before I could ever know what was really going on. I get a cold shiver as I push away memories of the night of his death.

I drink down my water, as I look beyond the picture of my dad, I see the city lights. I might have a small flat but it does have one hell of a view. I love sitting out on the small wrought iron balcony at night just taking in the beauty of the city. Sure this is a dark city with major shit going on, but to look at it you just see those lights, here the business, and it kind of sweeps you away romantically. I fall on my couch laying on my back, staring up to the ceiling. I am just going to sleep here tonight. My mind is a fucking mess with this case. My eyes get heavy and I drift away into dark dreams that consume my thoughts. I see that dark moving shadow, but it has no form. It follows me, almost like it is hunting me. My dreams dwell on the shadow and me running from it. In the dream everywhere I go the shadow is there, watching, waiting and seeking to pounce. I feel the shadow getting closer in my dream, the shadow engulfs me then I feel my flesh tearing. My heart races. Then jolt awake from the nightmare, as the phone rings. My hand is gripping my heart, my pulse racing, my heart stomping in my thick muscled chest. The phone rings again. I grasp the receiver and face goes ashen white --- another gruesome alley way murder has happened.

By the time I get down to the crime scene over on the alley way off of West Elm street, it has been two hours since the incident. Cops from the precinct have the alleyway blocked off, there are plenty of onlookers, reports trying to catch a glimpse of the latest bloodbath. I work my way down the alley and there is no hiding my shock, this attack is the worst one yet. It appears to my 9 victims shredded, torn asunder, ripped apart, and eaten on almost. There are officers who are gagging and vomiting at the stench and sight. The alley walls are painted and splattered in blood. I mean this just shows there is no way this is just a simple gang dispute as my reporting chief officer says. The dim alley lights barely show the true horror of the scene. Flash lights shine everywhere as the force attempts to catalog the scene and gather any evidence. My skin crawls. This scene looks like the rest of the attacks, and they all resemble my father’s murder. I shake my head to get a grip and find the officer in charge Sergeant Henry Millant. Millant is a good but a company man, he does what he is told, and goes by the books. He does not think outside the box. So it is often hard to discuss the case with him as he will have it dismissed as a gang dispute like the bosses want. There is something more going on here.

No witnesses again, no one in the area claims to have seen anything. Sergeant Millant reports to me. I listen to his common report just like the rest. I stand not interrupting allowing the superior officer to talk. As I hear him ramble on about standard case procedures, I get the feeling again. Something is watching. Is it that shadow? I glance around but see nothing. Then I see him, a dark haired, thick barrel chested, tall, muscular hunk in a dark suit coming my way. My body tenses, my cock thickens, and I begin to sweat. I lose the notion that I am standing in the crime scene, all I see is him.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
There has been yet another horrendous mass murder of mob criminals. I finally have clearance, a month after the Sûreté offered the FBI assistance with these investigations. I have been in Chicago for four weeks, obsessed with this case, anxious for clearance to visit the actual crime scenes. Americans think European bureaucracy takes time….

Some policemen are still retching as they record the atrocities, the brutal rending of the victims. Victims. We all know that whoever, whatever, committed these murders is powerful and sadistic beyond measure. But every “victim” has preyed on this quadrant of the city. It’s hard not to feel some kinship with the murderer. One of the migraine waves washes through me when I think of him, or it. I am too concentrated on this case, for many reasons. But the headaches this last month, the nightmares, the lapses in memory. Did my father react this way three decades ago to the case that caught Sûreté’s attention to this one, or am I not as strong as he?

I see the Detective who has evidently taken over the case and he turns. “Sacre bleu!” He is stunningly handsome. The migraine throbs for a moment, flecks of light flashing in my vision, then fades. The tunnel vision, for once, is welcome, all I see is him.

“I am Inspector Fernand Laurent,” I state, feeling foolish at such inarticulateness.

You are not logged in.

Detective William Banks:
I must be grinning like a love struck teenager when I hear him speak his name. His features are so gorgeous. His hard cheek bones, his penetrating deep brown eyes, his dark sable hair, his shirt slightly open revealing a healthy fur on his massive chest, his pants tight around his thick quads, it is all so….well...PERFECT. If I could have dreamed up a man, this would be him. His accent and voice are like fine music to my ears, which electrifies my body and sending pulses of pleasure to my thickening manhood. I have no idea how long it took me to respond to him. I wonder how long we stared at each other before I finally spoke back to him.

You are not logged in.

“Detective William Banks...” I say leaning forward and then reaching out and gripping your firm strong hand. “...at your service.” With those words, my mind fills with imagines of us interlocked in passion love making and sex, covered in sweat as your thick heavy fur dusted body covers me. You gripping me, crushing me, making me your man. Your cock so thick and full leaking your manly seed on me, my mind rushes and cock swells as in these few brief moments the mere thoughts of your bring me ecstasy.

I come to, and release your hand. “Inspector, how can we help you?” I say again, doing everything in my power to remain professional.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
It takes me a moment to realize you asked me a question. I have been staring at your face since you turned toward me. Boyish handsome, trying to look more mature by growing a beard, which is trimmed to a perfect scruff. Like me, you appear to buy your clothes a size too small to show off your lean hard muscles. Fortunately, I don’t have to try too strenuously to take my gaze at your almost irresistibly sexy body. Your eyes are the feature that draws my undivided attention. Sparkling blue, flirty, fully aware of just how attractive you are without seeming narcissistic about it.

“Actually, Detective, I am hoping to be able to help you. I reached out to the FBI and arrived in Chicago a month ago when I became aware these killings had started up again. Trying to get clearances to speak to the local police and access records, though…. Well, European bureaucracies have nothing on you Americans.” I flash you a smile to let you know I’m teasing, and, frankly, to make sure you see my dimples.

“I have … the Sûreté has … some background on the nature of these attacks that you may find helpful.”

Detective William Banks:
The gaze between us is mutual...I think even reporting officers around us feel the initial heat between us. Honestly, this is not like me to be so cavalier and openly lusting over a man. But you are clearly no ordinary man. You are ALL man through and through. Your dark perfect hair set on your head which frames your gorgeous face….those eyes...fuck they just welcome me in. Your face is scruffy but well kept...and then to say nothing of your body…I mean I think I could spend weeks roaming and feeling all over your thick frame.

You offer your help...the Sûreté has experience…stop my lusting and now my detective side is kicking...what the fuck is the FBI doing snooping in some gang-related murder cases in lower east Chicago. But even more...so...what the fuck is the Sûreté doing here...this has international concerns? My mind is racing and curiosity is amiss with this new sexy Inspector.
“Really….Inspector...the FBI….the Sûreté...all interested in our ‘gang-related’ killings here in Chicago?” I say as I coldly look at the Police Chief who has been silently standing to our side. I hold my hand up in air quotes at him. I turn my gaze back to my sexy new “friend,” saying…”I would be most interested in any help you and the Sûreté can offer...we seem to be at a bit of impasse here with our investigations... all those American bureaucracies.” I playfully jab at your words then take a risk and reach out to your thick cannon-sized arm and give it a squeeze. My hand lingers there… for a moment...I am lost in your beauty again. I again snapback out of my lustful haze as two of the reporting officers bring me the first of many evidence reports and findings.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I feel your hand on my arm, it is as if a jolt of electricity enters my body. Your grip is strong and gentle at the same time. I instinctively flex my bicep to try to impress you. But from the look in your eyes, I suspect you are already as impressed as I am with you.

“I see I have confused you, perhaps even offended you, with interference in your case. There is much to this and I will gladly tell you all that I know - and suspect.” I look around. “Perhaps we can leave the forensics team to their work and go somewhere more quiet? Perhaps … we can discuss it over a drink?”

I surprise myself with the boldness of the suggestion. Did I just offer to brief the handsome detective or did I just invite him on a date? The truth may lie between the two.

Detective William Banks:
Your arm flexes in my grip...fuck did just do that...he is flirting with me...well maybe not….he is French and they are whole hell of a lot more friendly that we Americans are, but shit will I take it. I rub his muscle just a little before pulling back away from him. My cock is swelling to new hardened heights in my pants.

Your kindness shows as you attempt not to step on my authority or seem intrusive on our case...you communicate very well that you are here to help. It is ironic that I am not even focusing on the horrors of the bloody crime scene around me...nine men were slaughtered here and all I can do is think about this French hunk in front of me and how I want him in my bed.

I stop stunned when you ask if we can go somewhere and talk...to brief me on your case findings. My mind races to catch up to you...did he just ask me out...or is this a case study...now I am sweating. “Well...sure, absolutely, please…” I stutter over my words. The police chief backed off from our conversation as the heat between us was noticeable. He merely nods assuring me has the scene well in hand. “This way Inspector...there is a coffee shop nearby….” I say gesturing the way, so that I can get you in front of me and adjust my swollen cock.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I pretend not to notice the Detective’s aroused reaction to me - or how impressive his “excitement” looks. Had not I chosen to wear loose-fitting slacks this evening, he would have clearly noticed the same response on my side. However, the slacks also drape suggestively over my hard round buttocks, which are clearly in the Detective’s view as he gestures for me to lead.

We round the corner and I see the coffee shop the Detective suggested. I look around as we enter. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean and well-maintained though showing its age. I conjecture it’s been in the hands of the same family for a few generations. It reminds of the places I would frequent near my apartment in Montmartre, not far from the Moulin Rouge. I am pleased to see cafe au lait on the menu and order one, curious what the American detective will choose.

Detective William Banks:
As you step in front me I get a full beautiful view of that fine French ass, my cock jumps. I mean I am only thinking in my man lust but that ass of yours is just perfect. The size, I can see the muscles flex, and it is driving me insane. “Come on get a grip Banks,” I tell myself as we walk down the alley. But I stop for a quick minute, that feeling returns. Someone...something is watching me. I look behind me only to see the police force. I look up into the darkness, there is presence around me...somewhere… Is it a hunter? Am I being hunted?

I turn back around finding my eyes to meet the handsome inspector looking at me. We finish walking down the alley but that feeling stays with me. I try to turn my attention away from it. I really want to grab the Inspector’s hand but that is way too brazen. We make our way to a little coffee shop, all along the way I keep catching whiffs of your manly scent and it drives me more crazy. We go into the little shop. I wave to the Kesslers, an elderly couple who have owned this little place for years. They smile and greet each other back. Mrs. Kessler comes up to take our order, and in true French style you order a great cafe drink. I was impressed.

“Your usual dear?” Mrs. Kessler says rubbing my forearm. “Yes please Café Viennois.” I say. I motion to a nearby booth for us, so we can quietly chat. Our coffee will arrive soon and I lean in as curiosity has the better of me. ”So Inspector lay it on me, why is the FBI and the French Sûreté interested in this gang murder case?” I say as my leg brushes yours under the table. Mmmmm I feel that thick quad through your pants. Oh my fuck my cock just leaked. I try to keep my composure.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I watch you carefully as you greet the hospitable couple who run the shop. And I feel your leg brush against mine, two muscular quads barely touching but feeling each other’s power. I am fully aroused and grateful that the cafe table is hiding it from you. Perhaps not so grateful, I wouldn’t mind letting you know just how handsome and appealing you are to me.

I hear your inquiry and I slightly cock my head. “The FBI does not believe these are gang-related killings, Detective, and - whatever your superiors have told you to say - I do not think you believe it either. The FBI is aware of too many killings, let’s not mince words, these are massacres, occurring in other cities over the years.”

“As far as the Sûreté is concerned, this is primarily me exerting my privilege as an Inspector. I became aware of the first wave of atrocities here five years ago but did not yet have the rank to intercede. Then those killings ceased as quickly as they began. These murders resemble a wave of killings in Paris that my father investigated when he held the rank of Inspector.”

“Those crimes, Detective Banks, occurred three decades ago.”

Detective William Banks:
I am struggling to process the bits of information you are giving me. They are not the whole story but I feel there is much you can not tell me. You are confirming everything I feel inside that there is so much more to this case. If it is not gang wars, then these crimes are… I gulp when I hear it, these crimes are decades old. How the fuck is that possible? I mean how the fuck is that EVEN possible?

I put down my coffee, my eyes trying to just focus on something real because what is telling me is unreal. “Ok...I get these are not gang fights. What the fuck, these murders have been going going on for decades? You mean the same guy or people are doing these killings? How is that possible?” My voice cracks a little as I focus on you. “So what are you saying Fernand?” I pause, ”May I call you Fernand?” I want to reach across the table and hold his hand but I hold back.

What in the hell is going on?

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I pause a moment. I know how much this must all be to take in. Your questions are hard for you to form and I struggle with where to start and how much to tell you. You reach across the table but your hand stops short of touching mine. You ask if you may use my given name. I give you a half-smile and put my hand on top of yours, hoping to calm your unsettled mind. “Yes, you may call me Fernand.”

“The nature of each of these massacres was covered up so as not to panic people. In the Paris case, the official story was that the victims were hanged or strangled. But they were torn apart, much as the men back in the alley were. If your coroners take the time to reassemble the corpses, they are likely to find many of the body parts …. Missing.” I pause, knowing that the final piece of information will be the greatest shock of all.

“May I call you William?”

Detective William Banks:
You perfectly take the cue of my hand coming across the table...like a true gentleman...you come the rest of the way and rest your strong hand on mine. I can feel your calm pulse, as well as muscles in your hand. You can tell a lot by a man’s hands...and yours tell me so much...of your power and care that rests in you. My cock gets excited at this touch...and it stirs in my tight pants...curse me for wearing tight fighting clothing tonight.

But my mind then turns from you...to what you tell me...a cover up...these murders...these massacres have all been covered up for decades...they are in some mysterious way connected but covered up...how is that possible? My mind is racing...then I feel the blood pull from my face...I hear your words...body parts missing...what...my mind is screaming.

“Did you say missing...as in take away from the scene...or do you mean...what I think you mean…” I steady myself…”eaten?” My voice is quiet and in shock. I am a detective and I can handle a lot…these gruesome scenes don’t bother me...but now if someone or worse yet something is eating people...that changes everything.

“Um yes...call me William…” I respond quickly, still processing what you have just said. “So what, Fernand, are we dealing with a cannibal or something else?” I question...but I fear the answer.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I feel your hand relax in my soft grasp. But I can read in your eyes that your mind isn’t just trying to keep up with what you are hearing but jumping ahead of what I’ve told you to the implications of it. You have seen the brutal, animalistic manner of the deaths and reason that “missing” means “eaten”. You say “cannibal” tentatively as if you know the truth is something else. It is no mystery that you have become a detective at such an early age. You process information quickly - accurately.

I weigh carefully how to say the last part. My superiors roll their eyes when I talk about it but I heard it directly from my father, who is not one to exaggerate or imagine things. “William, the killer has almost never been seen despite the ravages that were inflicted.”

I pause to make sure you heard “almost” in that statement. Your eyes meet mine and I know you did. “My father was there the night the Préfecture de police and the Sûreté surrounded the Paris Opera House, convinced they had trapped the heinous murderer in an inescapable dragnet. But the killer did escape, still sight unseen ....” My voice trails off momentarily.

“.... except my Father. He encountered the killer in the vast underground below the Opera House. They looked at each other.” This is the difficult part. “The murderer is not human, William. What looked my father in the eyes was a massive beast, a wolf that walked on two legs, larger than any wolf ever seen. But it was its eyes, William, my father said the beast had steely blue eyes that glowed against the sable color of its fur. Their eyes met for a few seconds, there was a blur of motion, and the beast was gone.”

I wait to see if you believed me or if you thought me a madman chasing his own delusions by pulling rank to come to Chicago.

Detective William Banks:
You supportively hold my hand...It feels so good as you do this, your fingers run over mine showing your strength and comfort. Your grip tightens so that I do pull away, I find it very attractive but I soon begin to realize you have a purpose. You are reeling me in for a deeper, darker, and more hideous truth for me to learn. My heart is pounding my chest...with words like eaten...and now almost. This all seems like some horrible fairy tale of a monster or something. Then my face I know turns ashen white with what I hear next. You speak of your father and this unbelievable encounter with a...fucking monster….a man eating wolf....my mind is racing....you are talking about a werewolf. I want to pull my hand back from you and hold it firmly, you are wanting me to accept this truth you just told me.

“Fernand...what the fuck…you can not be serious...you are talking about werewolves and the boogie man....I mean come on now....that shit is only myth….horror stories we tell kids to scare them.” I breathe heavily. I am clutching your hand tightly now. My mind feels like it will explode. “I am come on...you believe this?? You believe what your father saw was real?” I do not wait for your answer... the bigger question is still to come.

I take a deep breath...I am so into this guy...he is sexy, smart, and smells amazing...but this story he is selling...he is so sincere...but it is so out of this world to accept. I throw my hard question out there…”Have you seen….the...wolf?” I stutter out. I am almost fearful of your answer.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I let all your questions tumble out, as you try to process what I’ve told you. I’m not sure how I would react had our roles been reversed. I pause as I reflect on which part to address first. I force myself to stay calm, hoping to settle you down with me.

“My father was always my hero, William. I looked up to him; he’s the reason I joined the Sûreté. He never scared me with stories of monsters hiding under my bed or in the closet. And he never lied to me. He did not tell me about the Wolf until I was accepted at Sûreté as he thought I had a need to know.”

I pause to let you take that in, trying to prove that my belief in my father’s tale is not unfounded. “No, I knew nothing of the Wolf much less see him. I was a child when my father was on that case. After he saw the Wolf and it disappeared, the crimes stopped. But he told me one other thing, William. He told me that while he was working the case, he always felt he was being watched, observed. And Wiliam……

“... ever since I came to Chicago, I have had the same sensation. I am always looking over my shoulder and avoiding shadows.”

Detective William Banks::
It’s easy to understand why people wouldn’t believe his father’s story. A walking wolf hiding under an opera house, it sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and yet I can’t dismiss that I too have been getting a strange feeling that I’m being watched. I bring my hand up to the back of my neck as I feel the hair there standing on end, and I can’t help but to notice that Fernand might be feeling uneasy the same way.

“And you think this wolf might be here? Watching us? Ripping these men to shreds? If that wolf in your father’s story was responsible for the crimes, then why would it, or maybe something similar to it, be running around playing a vigilante now Fernand? It just doesn’t make sense that it would trek halfway across the world and show itself now.”

While I’m talking this over, I can’t help but to remember the body of my father. The remains were so violent, so vicious. There have always been talk of large creatures in the wilderness, sasquatch, wendigo. and what not roaming up north in Canada. If those creatures were real, it seems feasible that one might come south, but it's hard to believe such an animal like that would be singling out gangsters for their criminal behavior.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I look down at my beverage, I feel you trying to absorb what I’ve told you, wanting to believe me. My comment about feeling watched elicits a response and I can tell it resonated for you.

“Everything about these crimes is consistent with the real murders in Paris before the extent of the carnage was covered up. And yes, I believe the wolf is here and watching us. We must be very careful.” I pause and sip. “In Paris, the wolf slew both struggling artists and rich patrons. Who can tell the motives of a beast?”

I could stay with this handsome detective here all night. Perhaps longer. But the hour grows late and we both have work to do tomorrow. I finish my coffee.

“William, I have given us both much to think about tonight.” I touch your hand again. “We should probably let the Kesslers close up.” My eyes meet yours.

Detective William Banks::
I look over to the shop owners, and sigh thinking about the hour. He’s right, as much as I am enjoying our time together here in the shop, or maybe just our time together in general, there are bigger matters to attend to. My blooming crush on Fernand will need to be put on hold for right now, I just wish we could have met under less grim circumstances.

“You are right Fernand, it would be rude of us to linger here longer.” I quickly finish my coffee so the cup can be returned for cleaning. “I don’t know what the motives of the creature in your story were about Fernand, but to me, it seems like this creature is targeting criminals. I called it a vigilante earlier, and for now, that's what my gut tells me this is about.” I can’t get my father’s murder out of my head as I tell him that. If my hunch is right, then I might be learning something terrible about him as the investigation continues. For now, I depart the shop with Fernand ready to call it a night.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
We leave the coffee shop, reluctantly. I am so drawn to this detective. What does he do when he’s off-duty? Is he ever off-duty or so obsessed with his job and his cases that he has no time for more… personal adventures? I glance back. I don’t want you to leave, but watching those buttocks work your uniform slacks, I enjoy seeing you walk away.

I get close to the inexpensive hotel that not only met my meager expense account allowance but was close to the crime scene. I walk through the dingy lobby to the stairs - I won’t be trapped in the unreliable elevator again - and head to my third floor room. Almost there, my head explodes in a migraine, an affliction I never experienced before this trip. The pain, the vertigo, the casual sounds like the rattle of the elevated train magnified, I hold the wall to get to my room. In pain, I strip and crawl under the covers, welcoming the quick descent into sleep.

Detective William Banks::
I depart the shop having to leave Fernand now, and as much as I would love to try and follow up our budding attraction, there are lives on the line. I wonder for a moment the value of the lives of the current victims, it seems that to some degree there are always people who cause problems for others; and often some of them are above the law or very good at avoiding it. If this Wolf creature is real like Fernand thinks, part of me feels that letting it stay free would be a good thing. Still though, I am a lawman, and I believe in the justice system even if some bad people slip through.

I continue on this line of thought as I take the L train on my way home. My thoughts begin to shift again to Fernand as the elevator moves. I wonder what his thoughts are on all this, about this… It could be that it is focused on the chase for this creature, a creature I’m not completely convinced exists. That’s when it hits me… that feeling from earlier. I look around, feeling as though something is watching me. There are of course other passengers and I look to see if any of them are feeling the same, and yet they seem to go on about their business unhindered. This is either paranoia in my head, or whatever is out there is looking at me specifically… the thought of my father’s corpse comes to mind and I shutter. Is this creature stalking me?

Volos:
I pick up the scent of the detective as he makes his way to the station. I match the speed of the train, running through the shadows on the streets below the elevated tracks until I smell him again. While I stay out of his sight, I can tell from his anxious body movements that he senses my presence as I follow him to the apartment building where he lives. A few minutes later, a light appears in a third floor window. I clamber up the fire escape silently, my thick pelt softening the impact of massive weight on the flimsy structure.

I peer in as the detective comes out of the bathroom and strips near his bed. His naked body arouses my ten-inch obsidian spear as he prepares himself for bed.

Detective William Banks::
I needed the shower, partially because I was starting to sweat while talking with Fernand. After I finish my rinse, I towel down my body and hair, it is a little moist still. I’m one of those types who likes to air dry my body. I wonder how Ferdand does this part of his routine. I wonder what he is doing now. As I start to think about him, that feeling of being watched starts to subside. No, not subside, it becomes easier to ignore with the distraction. My cock starts to harden as I remember the cute wiggle to his ass when he was walking.

I think I see something out of the corner of my eye from the window, it causes me to jump. In the darkness, I can’t really see anything there though. I don’t hear any sound, if somebody was on the fire escape, I’m certain I would have heard them. Eager to get back to my imagination I go and slump down on my bed, there is no need to make a mess anywhere else in the house. I lay back in my bed thinking about his charming face, hanging on the cute dialect of his accent as he spoke. Maybe it’s because he is French, but there is something that is very arousing about it.

You are not logged in.

Taking my cock in my hand, I start giving myself thick long strokes. The moisture from the shower helps this process a bit. Laying there lost in my head, I close my eyes and start to softly thrust my hips in the air as I imagine the things I wish to do to Fernand. Part of me wonders if he is into wrestling at all, though in recent years the sport has been falling on hard times…

You are not logged in. You are not logged in. You are not logged in.

Starting in the 30s, it started being viewed more as theatrics, less as an actual competition. To me this was a blessing because that made it so moves were more exaggerated. That of course meant a longer time with two hot and sweaty bodies pressed together. Fernand might seem a bit dainty as a Frenchman, but I’m sure he is creative. I continue to stroke myself about how I would take him in the ring, and maybe how he would cleverly flip things on me and take me in return. Shortly after, my eyes open as I shoot my thick load, a cold shutter runs down my spine. I look around, I feel like I’m being watched… I force myself to shrug it off, I need to be rested for tomorrow. I start to turn out the lamp by my bed, but decide to play it safe. I get up going to my trench coat and get my pistol, then bring it back to my bed. I curl up with it under my pillow, before starting to doze off for the night.

Volos:
I watch as the detective pleasures himself. I am overcome with a rutting lust for the human but I will not take him tonight. My own spear throbs and erupts, a flood of the seed of a four-hundred pound Wolf Lord splashing on the pavement below. I watch as he brings his handgun to bed with him, his belief that it will serve as protection against me is utterly charming. My ears perk up as I hear the sounds of a violent confrontation blocks away. I speed toward it, believing that my keen senses have found tonight’s dinner.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I show up at the precinct the next morning and ask where your desk is. I see you sitting there, already looking over the reports from last night’s killings. You look so handsome, absorbed as you are, you don’t even see me approach. I cough softly to get your attention, as I put a coffee on your desk. “I stopped at the Kesslers’ on the way in. As I recall, you like yours black. American pastries are a bit of a mystery to me. Would you prefer a,” I pause to read what Madame Kessler wrote on the bag for me, “a glazed donut or a cruller?” I flash you a lop-sided grin, “I thought a bear claw would be in bad taste, under the circumstances.” I look at the hurriedly-developed crime scene photos. “I see there was another atrocity.”

Detective William Banks::
As you speak I jump a little, the images from the scene are on my desk. The murders were reported so early last night, the investigators were able to photograph the bodies shortly after the incident was committed, making these ones especially graphic. The black and white photos had just recently been developed in the red room and brought to me, and while I’m used to seeing graphic displays, something about these I find more unsettling than normal, especially since they came from only a few blocks from my residence.

I look up to you as you stand there, the sudden shock fading as I slump back in my chair, my hands coming up to accept your offering. I force a smile on my face, but the idea of eating right now isn’t at all appealing, even if I am on an empty stomach. “Thank you Fernand. I’ll take the glazed one.” My attention turns back to the photos, of which I noticed your attention focused on as well.

“Yep, another case of gangsters ripped apart. These images are more fresh than the usual ones taken, maybe shot a half hour after the mauling. To be honest, it’s a little hard to look at.” I take a bite of the glazed donut and drink some coffee trying to enjoy the gift.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I pull up a chair next to you, sitting close to look over the gruesome photographs with you. “Has the coroner begun noting whether parts of the bodies are …. Missing?” My thigh accidentally presses against yours and I quickly pull away. When you show no sign of being upset or annoyed, I let it return, the thick muscular quad under my slacks touching yours. I look over and give you a sheepish half-smile.

“William, I know this seems an awkward time to discuss food, but would you …. Well, would you consider …. Um, might we have dinner together this evening after work?”

Detective William Banks::
Your leg brushing against mine doesn’t solicit a response, though the exact reason isn’t clear. It could be that I’m simply caught up in the photos, or maybe that I’m concerned about looks from my colleagues. When you return your leg a second time, you feel my hand slide over your quad and give it a slight squeeze. “Dinner would be wonderful Fernand.”

I eat some of the donut and take a drink of the coffee, the two flavors mixing together to make a temporary distraction from the task at hand. “And thank you for the coffee.” The case is weighing heavily on my mind, not so much solving it, but if we should even do so. The men who were killed last night were bad news. Even still, to be ripped apart so viciously… It doesn’t seem right. I look over to you fearing you might think I’m ignoring you, then notice my hand is on your thigh, I leave it. “Sorry Fernand if I seem so focused, these new ones last night were only a few blocks from my residence.”

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
At first I think I have been too forward with William, he makes no acknowledgment of my touch. I see the intense look on your face and realize you are absorbed, I barely know you but I can tell this crime is affecting you more than the others. Then you tell me how close to your home this took place, and I understand your feeling. I feel your hand on my thigh and I am relieved that you are not offended.

“No wonder this one troubles you so much, William, it was very close to home.” I look closely at the photographs. It is difficult to put the pieces of what happened in the alley, and I mean that literally. A torso here, one its arms there. But there seem to be two clusters of body parts, as if the two groups in the alley had barely begun their interaction. I refer to the reports and the backgrounds of the deceased. “William, look at where the two groups are in relation to each other. Whatever was happening there was just beginning. The killer must have been nearby.”

Detective William Banks::
“I’m almost certain he was. Fernand, last night I felt like… like I was being watched the entire way home. Even inside after I cleaned up and went to bed.” My grip on your thigh tightens. “The fact that the killings happened so soon after I went to sleep.” I look you in the eyes, “It’s unnerving. The story you told me, at first I thought it was just a tall tale, but now I’m starting to question it more and more.”

I nervously finish off the donut and drink some coffee, a little bit of a shake noticeable in my hand. I immediately plant my hand on the desk to save face not wanting to look weak. “I’m nervous. Maybe I should tell you about my father…”

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
You try to hide the waver in your voice but I notice it. Your body language tells me this story will be emotional for you. “William, let us leave these horrible photos here and go for a walk. You can tell me about your father when we’re away from all this.”

I stand and offer you my hand. I’m thinking of the small park just a couple of blocks away. It’s peaceful, well, as peaceful as we’ll find in this bustling, noisy city.

Detective William Banks::
I take a deep breath and finish the rest of my coffee. Accepting your hand, I pull myself up to standing grabbing my coat from my chair. We turn from the desk and start to leave, me pulling the coat on and shoving my hands in my pocket. I can feel my pistol holstered, and that makes me feel safe, or at least capable of being safe. Whatever this creature is, a few slugs should put it down.

As we head out to the park and the fresh air does me good, it quickly helps to calm the nerves. There is a nice little fountain with some benches around it on the path. I am happy to sit next to you as I toil over the details and how to explain them just right. I don’t know how you will respond regarding this, so I just come out and start with the big part.

“Fernand, it happened about 5 years ago. My father was murdered, in a fashion very similar to these. He was my hero, the reason for me choosing this path.” I grip your hand, “If this Wolf is killing only the heinous, then I worry about what that says about my father.” I give you a moment to respond.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I want to put my arm around and hold you, make everything right for you. But I know that I cannot take away the grief and, now, the suspicion that your father was not the hero you grew up admiring. I hold the hand gripping mine.

“William, I know how you feel about your father. I admire mine as well. I too followed in his footsteps to join the Sûreté.” I pause, thinking of the possibilities. “Might your father have been undercover with the criminals? The killer would not have known the difference.”

Detective William Banks::
I think about the nature of my father’s work for a moment. He was a cop and the inspiration for me to become one myself, strikingly similar to Fernand. The similarities run too deep, and I make note of that, it seems too odd to just be coincidence.

“He was a cop, but more run of the mill to the best of my knowledge. I know he had a lot of secrets and struggled to help everyone he could, to me that came across as the best type of man you could be. It’s why this is all so shocking to think about.” I pause for a moment and take in some of the beauty of the park, “It’s possible that this creature could have killed him by mistake. My father died two years after the events of the first murders in the alleys happened. Maybe he just got unlucky and saw the creature too…” I trail the water of the fountain as some leaves fall into it.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I make note of your use of the word “creature” and understand that you are now convinced that my tale has truth to it. I have my instincts about this. William and I are too similar for this to be a coincidence. This is all linked and I suspect that the story of Banks Senior will be revealed before all this has been resolved.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, William, I see now why this case is so close to your heart. And I think you begin to see why I came all this way when I learned of these crimes.” I stand from the park bench. “I am going to the library to get the issues of the Tribune from the stacks. I wish to read how the crimes were reported at the beginning of the first spree. Perhaps there will be clues as to why they stopped, and why they began anew.”

I give you my lop-sided grin, “I will be back at the precinct at closing time to pick you up for dinner.”

Detective William Banks::
I watch Fernand as he leaves, curiously watching his ass as he walks. I take a few more minutes to take in the serene atmosphere of the park, nature’s splendor always being a good for my soul. Sometimes I wish I could just leave all this city life behind, and people like Fernand are the type who make me want to go and live a normal life, maybe out in the country. I’ve lived in Dad’s shadow for so long, it’s hard for me to see myself doing anything other than police work, but his death itself served as a means to push me in a different direction. France… What a nice place. Maybe after all this is over… No, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let’s see how dinner tonight goes before I start getting carried away.

For now I have work to do. I get up from the bench and make my way back to the precinct, ready to delve head first back into the case. Maybe I’m overlooking something…. Dad used to say that when you look too hard at a puzzle, you can get lost in the details. I think I need to take a step back and think about this from a different angle. I head back to the precinct to give those awful photos another look through.

Hours later I finish up work at the precinct, having spent far too much time and taxpayer dollars chasing leads that go nowhere. I’m so frustrated by the lack of progress, that I’ve even removed my tie, something I never do unless it is mid August or I’m really pissed about something. Fortunately my mood improves as I see Fernand coming in to collect me for tonight’s dinner.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I see your eyes light up when I get to the precinct house. “Are you ready for dinner, William? I don’t know many restaurants here and I fear to admit, as a Frenchman, I have become quite addicted to the meat-and-potatoes fare at a restaurant near my hotel.” I give you a faint lop-sided grin again.

“Will that be all right with you?”

Detective William Banks::
“Sounds great Fernand.” I rise with a smile and close the folder containing the case information. After I lock it in my desk I lazily put the tie on around my neck, before putting on my coat and hat. I wave to a few colleagues on the way out, a few of them glancing back and forth ready to engage in gossip about our budding relationship.

Heading out to the restaurant, I try to hide the fact that I skipped lunch today, that donut and coffee being the only real meal I’ve had. It has a lot to do with the photos and the crime scene, in fact there are many days these last few weeks where I’ve been eating less because of the grim nature of the case. It saves a little money in the pocket book, but probably not good for my health. As we head there, I think up what to order while eying Fernand as we walk. I don’t want to seem ordinary to him. Maybe I’ll let him order first and follow suit.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I make note of the curious glances from your co-workers as we leave together, including one making a motion of drawing his pinkie finger slowly along his eyebrow. I hope that our budding affection will not cause you trouble at the precinct, but I also note which of your co-workers needs to have their asses kicked before I return to Paris.

The host recognizes me and smiles. “Monsieur Laurent,” he greets me with an exaggerated French accent. He looks at you and asks, “Your usual table, sir, or would you like one a bit more … quiet?” I nod and smile. “Quiet would be nice.” I turn to you, “I trust the oysters won’t be too suggestive?” giving you a sly grin. I turn back to the host without waiting for a response, “A dozen please. And a bottle of that lovely Chateauneuf du Pape, if I haven’t already drunk your inventory.” The host nods with a smile as he leads us to the table in the back.

Detective William Banks::
Already he has brought up two things that I’m not the most familiar with, a fancy sounding bottle of wine, and oysters. I’ve had oysters before of course, just not my usual type of food. I don’t want to put him off, so I go along with it with a smile. “Good choice on the drink.”
I quickly start looking at the menu trying to find something that I recognize and that isn’t too drab. “How was your day Fernand?” I figure I could buy a couple minutes by prompting polite conversation…

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I see you looking puzzled already, peering at the menu. “If I may make a suggestion, their prime rib and baked potato are quite ridiculously delicious. And it will go well with the wine. I hope you like it.”

“My day wasn’t totally productive. The newspapers were obviously cautioned by the authorities not to raise a panic so the coverage is considerably less than accurate. A few interesting tidbits but none that really help us in the case.”

Detective William Banks::
“Prime rib it is.” I look relieved and put the menu down. Considering how forward you have been with me so far, and given the length of the tablecloth, I move my foot to rub against your leg, me blushing faintly as I do so.

“Fernand, may I ask what it is you are looking for in your life… beside all this stuff with your work? Do you like the countryside? The city? Train rides? Are you a fan of any spots?” I shoot off my questions rapid fire, not really giving a chance for you to respond, a bad habit of mine when I get a bit excited or flustered.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
Your nervousness around me, now that we are somewhat on a first date, is charming. Your foot rubbing my calf is just as charming. I do not pull my leg away. “Where do I start? I am French so of course I played football. I believe here you call it ‘soccer’ if you have heard of it at all. I love tennis but I am dreadful at it.”

“I live in Paris’ Latin Quarter, the spires of le Notre Dame never far from view. I love the city but I was raised in the country. The family cottage is in Avignon.” I laugh. “We call it a ‘cottage’ but it has three bedrooms and sits on almost two hectares of land. My father moved back there after he retired from the Sûreté. He stayed after my mother passed away, pruning his roses and feeding his chickens.

“My sister lives not far away, he walks there once or twice a week for dinner and to play with his grandchildren. They have a mock argument each evening about him not walking back so late; he likes his independence but if Amelie did not insist on driving him, I’m not sure he would know what to do.”

I smile at you. “It’s a lovely place, I go visit when I can. You’ll like it when I take…..” I stop, flustered, realizing what I just started to say. “I mean, you’d like it if you ever went there.” That was worse. I stop, blushing.

Detective William Banks::
“Well who knows what will happen when this is all over. I do love country life, and frankly… I think I’m tired of the big city.” The server comes back with the bottle you ordered about now and pours us each a glass. I take a sip trying to hide my feelings towards the bitter flavor, again trying to seem more sophisticated. “Good year.” I take another drink and watch to see your reaction to it.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I sip at the wine, “This wine comes from a region not far from Avignon.” I look at you and your response; I am not a detective for being slow at being observant. “How rude of me! Americans rarely drink red wine with seafood!” I turn to the server, “Garçon, may we also have a bottle of the Sauvignon Blanc, s'il vous plaît?”

The server comes back with the white wine and the platter of oysters, their mignonette fragrant on their bed of ice. I take a shell and offer it, as if toasting you with the mollusk, as the waiter pops the cork.

Detective William Banks::
I take a shell lifting it up to my mouth, close my eyes and slurp it down. “Good, about how I remember.” I take a drink of the white wine next, and generally seem pretty relaxed now compared to how I’ve been all day. “Fernand, when things start to settle down after all this…” I trail off and take a drink. “I was thinking I might travel a bit. Maybe see the world a little.” I grab another oyster.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
Is William hinting at my slip about taking him to Avignon? I picture taking him to my favorite places in Europe. The holiday market in Rome’s Piazza Navona, Oktoberfest in Bavaria, serenaded by a gondolier in Venice, the beaches of Santorini. I shake off the reverie as we share more over the filling meal. The nearly bloody meat served in front me makes me salivate, nearly drool, over our meal. I don’t want this evening together to end but I know it must.

Detective William Banks::
I dig into my meal when it arrives, my table manners being terrible with all the fancy forks and spoons. As much as I want to impress Fernand, my hunger really shows itself when I start eating, my body craving the sustenance from a day full of theory and dread. I wipe some of the sauce from my mouth realizing I must look like a beast as I opt to chew on a rib instead of slice the meat from the bone.

Once I had my fill I lean back into my chair, and drink some more of the wine. “Thank you for the fine meal Fernand.” I put on that charming smile of mine, the one you’ve seen a couple times now at the coffee shop, and at the park. There is an innocence to it that is slowly being lost in this city, in this deluge of crime, as well as the gruesome nature of this case. Maybe a trip away from it with a man like Fernand is just the thing I need to restore my love of the world.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I look at your smile as you lean back after essentially devouring your meal. I can tell you hadn’t had any food since I brought you pastry in the morning. I grin to myself, wondering if I will have to make sure you’ve eaten for the rest of our …. “Fernand! Fernand!” I chide myself, “You’re doing it again!”

I want this evening to last forever but we are back to the case tomorrow. If the past is prologue, there will be another crime tonight and much more to investigate. I nod to the server to put the meal on my tab. “William, I have enjoyed this night, but it grows late. Perhaps we should skip dessert. Shall we?”

Detective William Banks::
With our meal complete, we chat a little longer getting to know each other a bit more. I can tell there is a good connection here, something I’ve been missing for… well maybe for my entire life. I’ve had crushes on boys before, but I was always too concerned about pursuing them for things to move forward. I never knew how my dad felt about it before, and was always too afraid to move on it while he was still around. When he passed, that all changed, and I had the freedom to pursue. It could be that Fernand is my first real attempt at something serious.

As we exit the restaurant, it’s raining lightly. I smile thinking about how your hair is likely to get drenched. Standing out in the rain, I look into your eyes and place my hat on your head, my trimmed short hair at less risk of being a fashion disaster from mother nature. “Thank you again for the meal tonight. I hope my table manners weren’t too atrocious.” I smile and step forward coming chest to chest with you. I swing my right arm around your back without asking permission, moving my face close to yours, my lips puckering as I do. I pause there wanting to share a passionate kiss before going our separate ways.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
We walk from our table, the maitre’d gives me a wink, evidently expecting more from our evening than I dare wish. Rain began while we dined, the streets glistening, as if nature was trying to cleanse them of the horrors that have been committed on them. You put your hat on my head, as if you know how vain I am about my hair. You ask me about your table manners - which will need some work when - if - I take you to France. Before I can reply, you pull me close, our bodies finally in contact, and offer your lips for a kiss.

I meet your mouth and as we kiss, I am transported. I see fireworks over Montmartre, the sails of the Moulin Rouge spinning in the wind, glistening candles floating on the Seine. I stroke your cheek with the back of my hand and I know I am falling in love with this Chicago detective.

I flash that lop-sided grin as I pull back from the kiss. Did it last seconds, minutes? I whisper, “I have no plans for dinner tomorrow” I pull away, give your handsome face a long gaze, “Good night, William.” I walk away, wanting to jump and click my heels as if I’m in a Fred Astaire movie, and I resist the temptation to turn back to invite you back with me.

Detective William Banks::
How is it that in this time of the most gruesome case of my life, the most wonderful thing to grace it has chosen to show up? The good book says that the lord works in mysterious ways, and maybe I should just accept the blessing without question. I turn to be on my merry way in the opposite direction, the rain starting to stream down my face and into my eyes. I don’t mind it too much. I’m warm from the evening and even warmer from my kiss with Fernand.

The trip home is a little different than the one I usually take, in part because of all the things going through my head. I might literally be in love for the first time in my life, and there is something really special about that. I don’t mind the rain as I’m so lost in my head thinking about it, and because of that, I barely recognize that feeling I was having all of yesterday of being watched. I make my way to the L train, ready to head up, thinking I might cross through some back allies to get home early. I’m a little horny from the evening and can’t wait to unload at home. I really can’t wait until I get to have sex with Fernand for the first time… but that will have to wait.

That feeling suddenly hits me hard, harder than before. My mind comes racing back to the present as my mind practically screams danger at me. I look around, a cold shiver running through my spine. It might be the rain? No… it’s something else… like when a rabbit suddenly realizes it is being hunted. I know that IT is here, it has to be. But why me? I’m no criminal. I see the L train getting ready to depart, and I can’t be stuck here for another 20 minutes waiting for the next one; that might be a death sentence. I rush as fast as I can, my lungs starting to burn after I sprint for a full minute to try and get there. There is a kind lady boarding who holds the door, just long enough for me to slip in. I nod at her breathing heavily, hands on my knees as the train starts to leave, a huge puddle of water dripping from my coat and clothes.

Volos::
I catch up with the detective at the station for his train home. He senses me, feels the hunt, feels that I am predator to his prey. I scale the framework on the station as the residents drop their shades and close the curtains, their unlikely vigilante, their unexpected champion, all wanting plausible deniability as witnesses.

I reach the platform as you enter the train before it can depart. Frustrated that he may escape my pursuit, I hurl myself onto the moving vehicle, four hundred pounds of Wolf Lord rocking the train on its track. My claws dig into the metal as if it were what the humans call “butter.” I hang onto the roof of the train until I smell my prey exit.

Detective William Banks::
The train starts to move, allowing me a sigh of relief. There is no way the creature could get me now. That feeling starts to fade, me taking in some deep breath as that lady watches me with a worried eye. I just smile at her best I can. That’s when the feeling comes spiking back worse than before, right as the whole train shakes a little. Most of the people seem to notice it, but they just shrug it off, thinking it is something as a result from the rain that is picking up; afterall it hasn’t rained in a bit before so sometimes stuff builds up on the tracks and coils.

I know it is something else though, and I look out trying to see the creature. I have a feeling it is close, very close, stalking me. The dark sky hides it from me if it is even where I could see it through the glass. My heart is racing as the train moves slowly, rising to its final stop… my stop. The doors open and the people empty out, oblivious to the threat nearby. I still don’t know why I’m the one being hunted! I don’t question it, I think my life is in danger as those terrible photos from this morning flash through my eyes. I bolt, running as fast as I can. I pull my pistol knowing the thing is chasing me, and as I get to a crossing of alleys I turn around trying to see my hunter. I hold up my gun looking for a target, and that’s when…

Volos::
You exit the train, I feel the panic and dread in you as you flee. You run to the alleys, though you should know these are the killer’s favorite massacre sites of choice. You see fleeting shadows as I pass in front of streetlights. There is a dark blur as you are struck, nothing on which your eyes can focus. The impact slams you to the still-wet pavement and you hear the low rumble of a growl.

Detective William Banks::
I was a fool to take this route, these alleys are clearly the same hunting ground this monster stalks me in now. My heart is beating harder than it has before, and I’m sweating like crazy, not that you could tell from my rain soaked clothing. It passes by me I think, and I take a shot, the bullet shattering the glass of a street lamp. A moment later I’m slammed to the wet pavement face sliding across it with a nasty sting on my scruffy cheek. I hear a low growl of something over me, something huge. I turn on my back best I can, gun pointed up. I take another shot at this thing if I can see it. That’s when my gun is smacked from my hand, the hit almost breaking my wrist. In my moment of desperation I end up doing what those criminals did when this thing hunted them. I let out a cry, a holler, something begging for help from anybody who can hear, all while knowing my fate is about to be the same as my father’s.

Volos::
There are more blurs as I strike you, still moving too fast for your vision to comprehend. Disarming you, then pinning you down. I want to take you, make you mine, I feel your fear, I feel your dread. I pay my debts, I respect my promises, I owe you to my host’s desire but I crave you. I pin you down, lower myself on you. My ten-inch obsidian spear is engorged.

Detective William Banks::
I’m taking hits as I’m held down, clearly not meant to kill, but to batter and bruise. There is some light from the lamps but it is barely able to keep the darkness of this storm at bay. What I do make out though are those eyes… blue beads of light. This thing pins me down under its massive frame, the smell of its wet fur fills my nostrils reminding me of the dog I had when I was young. I see something moving above me as we slow down, you having me at your mercy. There is something less furry, shiny, reflective and long. Oh God, it never occurred to me it did this before ripping its victims to shreds. I struggle, my gun maybe a foot away. As I feel your breath on me from your pants, the storm growing worse, I finally get a glimpse of what you are as the first bolt of lightning arcs across the sky, your silhouette clear to me for the first time… it’s a wolf just like Fernand described in his father’s story…

You are not logged in.

Volos::
My claws rip the fabric from your body, traces of my claws on your skin. I watch you look up and your face frozen in horror as the lightning illuminates my mass, my fearsome maw, hovering over you. Fernand’s story did not reveal that I was more than a marauding beast so I do not speak and show you there is more.

I desire you, I want to claim you, but I will test your resolve. After this attack, will you stay on this case or will you cease the hunt after the horror? I hoist your legs, ripping the remainder of your clothes in shreds. I look down on you with my steely blue eyes, snarling, growling, spittle from my broad tongue dripping on you. My spear throbs and I penetrate you.

Detective William Banks::
This creature is ripping my clothing to shreds, and yet it seems to make a choice not to seriously hurt me. Slight scratches here and there, but the creature wants me unharmed as it… as it rapes me. I don’t understand why this is happening, why am I its victim? I gasp as I feel its breath hitting my face, the smell of its wet fur filling my nostrils. It has me, our eyes meeting, and I’m afraid to move, something that has never happened to me before. I was always taught to fight back even when I’m about to be killed, and yet now I feel like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a predator, frozen in fear as it has its way with me.

More clothing rips as it raises my legs, the pain begins as I feel the insertion of its monstrous shaft entering my body. As the act happens, I can’t help but to let out a cry. Our eyes meet again, and I can sense some intent in its mind, something maybe more than a beast but I can’t be certain. The moment has me though as he rakes my insides, the pain and fear overriding any joy one might take from the action. I let out a cry as I’m forced to endure my fate.

Volos::
My ten-inch obsidian spear tears you open, filling you, entering your canal. I thrust and pound hard, but aiming at your spot. I not only want to possess you, to frighten you, but unexpectedly, I want to rut the cum out of you. I fill you with my spear as I take my pleasure, attempting to bring you with me.

Detective William Banks::
As you hit my prostate, I begin to feel some pleasure, however the fear and pain of the encounter has me. With further thrusting of you into me, further hitting of the prostate makes me start to wonder of the intent afterall. Our eyes locked, I have to admit there is something to this act that intensifies what little pleasure is here, not that I would ever admit that. I have to close my eyes as I start to breathe hard, the rain coming down on us both still and light reflecting off my skin. My hand comes down to my cock instinctively as the pleasure starts to fill me overcoming my sense of dread, if only for a moment. My heart is beating, fearing that once this act is done I will end up like my father, and yet I pull back my skin and start to stroke myself wanting one last good moment of pleasure while I try to imagine Fernand in my mind.

Volos::
I see you beginning to enjoy this forced assault, your cock erect, your hand serving yourself. I know you expect to die, but I want you to carry this sense of both fear and pleasure. You could expose me, you could find my secrets. I feel you approaching climax, your hole clenching on my spear taking me to the brink. I have a desire to lap you with my broad wet tongue, but I must maintain the terror and thrill of your subjugation. I growl and throb, as I desire to claim you.

Detective William Banks::
I try to keep Fernand's image in my mind, but a combination of the cold rain, the hard pavement, and of course the monstrous beast raping me forces my thoughts right back to reality. There isn’t an escape for me here, even in this moment of pleasure, it seems like my death is imminent, and so part of me simply… simply let’s go. It accepts my fate and in that moment I climax, my thick load shooting from my cock onto my shredded clothes and soaked chest. I breathe hard looking in your glowing blue eyes, another strike of lightning illuminating your form. My head falls back to the pavement hitting harder than I intended, and then I lay there in your grasp, helpless and ready to die.

Volos::
I feel your surrender, I sense you think your demise is imminent. I feel your climax, your body exploding as you think it is your last. Your ass flexes on me as you release your load, pulsing, squeezing, and my head rears back. I HOWL in ecstasy as I claim you, the power of the HOWL drawing lightning strikes around us. I erupt into you blasting my wolfen seed deep into you. I look down at you.

You are not logged in.

Detective William Banks::
As the lightning rains down around us, I can see your fur is as black as midnight. It’s hard to explain how more terror can fill me, but knowing you can call down the elements manages to do so, not that it will matter in a few moments. My eyes wide in shock and terror, I keep mine locked with yours, and then reach my cum covered hand up to my chest to pull the shreds away from my chest. I want my end to be quick and clean, with as little pain as possible. I don’t know if you can understand me, so I simply nod as my chest heaves, the exertion of the chase and now the surrender having exhausted me to the point of passing out.

Volos::
With both of us drained by the union, I rear back. I see the look of horror in your eyes, thinking I will tear you apart like I have so many of my victims. My eyes lock on you, harsh, threatening. But I do not wish you dead, merely frightened to chase me further. I may seek more times like this for my pleasure, but it will be on my terms. I place my paws on your muscular chest, I dig a foreclaw into each nipple, I slowly draw them down to your navel, not deeply enough to damage you, but enough to leave a “V” forever scarred into your flesh.

Detective William Banks::
Is this how it starts, I never thought I would be experiencing something like this first hand, a slow autopsy of my body while still alive. As you sink those claws into my nipples, I wonder if only briefly why you would choose that, but so flooded with fear I don’t have the means to think about it deeply. You draw those claws to my navel, lines of red spilling out as rain washes over me. I’m too scared to cry out, but you can see me wince in pain as you mark me; claim me. I’ve already given up, I lay there helpless, praying to whoever is listening, that my end will come quickly. As I do, maybe it is a small miracle that I feel myself losing consciousness, the glow of those eyes burning into my mind.

Volos::
He is marked, but alive. Frightened, but not doomed. I do not wish his demise. I leave him, on the hard pavement, his wounds bleeding, the blood washed into the gutter by the rain. As I leave to feed on more of my real prey, I tear a mailbox from the pavement and throw it through the window of a nearby business to summon help for him.

Detective William Banks::
I lay there, losing my sight as I see the creature withdraw from me. I can’t be sure what is happening, this may be part of how it feeds or kills. I close my eyes as the water washes over me laying there helpless. As my mind fades, the exhaustion overtaking me, I hear the shattering of glass. A moment later I hear maybe a scream of a person, a woman as she sees me or the beast. Regardless of how it plays out, I pass out, unaware of what happens next…

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I am fast asleep when the hotel concierge knocks frantically on my door. “Monsieur Laurent, you have an urgent call.” I pull on my clothes and head to the hotel phone. I hear, “Inspector Laurent, I regret to inform you that your colleague, Detective Banks, has been .. injured. He is at Mercy Hospital.” I hang up the phone in a panic, and summon a cab. I force my way into William’s room to see how he is.

Detective William Banks::
I’m laying in a bed when I come to, a suture has been used on the laceration on my chest practically cementing a hideous scare that will follow me until the end of my days. This is all in addition to a throbbing pain in my rectum. Due to the medical procedures done, they have left the sheets off my upper body draped down to my waist with me doped up on morphine. All that is running through my mind in the sleepy state I’m in is the fear of being hunted, fragmented images of the beast, Fernand at the restaurant, and the bloody corpses of Gruesome Alley.

I wake to the sounds of the nurse raising her voice, apparently telling somebody they can’t come in. “Can’t come in…” My eyes snap open, the pain of the lacerations hitting me all at onces as I let out a groan. Another nurse next to me kneels down and hushs me, telling me I’m fine. I don’t really care about that because I can hear the voice of a Frenchman demanding his way into the room. “Let..” I start weakly followed by a cough, “Let him in.” The nurse eyes me but eventually relents and she echoes my orders, finally letting Fernand into the room to see me.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I don’t want to hurt the nurses who are doing their duty, but I will not be denied seeing William when he needs me. At least when I think when he needs me. I hear him murmur to let me in. I see you in your hospital bed. I’m not sure what happened to you but I have my suspicions.

“Was it the Wolf?”

Detective William Banks::
“Fernand…” I reach my hand up to grab yours, a look of relief in my eyes. “Yes, it… the beast attacked me. It was a Wolf, like you said.” As we start talking, the nurses look confused, and in a brief moment of anger I raise my voice. “Leave!” They don’t question it, they realize I’m with somebody special. Once we are alone I calm down, wincing from the pain as I bring my hand up to feel it for the first time.

“It stalked me from the restaurant… I have no idea why Fernand. I don’t know what it wanted with me, it chased me like I was its prey. I saw it clearly… as it took me.”

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
My rage boils within me, the Beast has injured the man who I, who I think I’m falling in love with. I hold your hand. “I will hunt down this Beast, this Wolf. It will never harm you again.”

Detective William Banks::
I struggle to remember some of the details, but my right hand traces the “V” shape of the laceration on my chest, it being stitched up from a suture kit. “It’s a blur, but I saw it clearly. It’s fur black as midnight, it’s eyes glowing a steely blue. It… Fernand, it took me…” I wince as I bring your hand down to my hip, close enough towards my buttocks that you should get the message. “I was so scared I would end up like the corpses, another victim for you to inspect.”

It is clear that the events, the trauma is still fresh in my mind, tears beginning to well up. Though we have only known each other for two days, such a display seems very out of character for me, clearly the scars of this event are more than skin deep. I grip your hand tightly as I look up at you.

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I am heartbroken as I feel your hurt, your shame, your pain. I grip your hand back, lean to kiss you. I back up and look at the “V” that the Beast has carved into your torso. I see the beauty of your body for the first time, but this is not the time for that. Yet. I want to hunt and kill the Beast.

Detective William Banks::
Despite my current predicament, I feel no shame lying before Fernand. He may be the only other person who can understand the scope of the creature that did that to me. The morphine is affecting my mind some, and perhaps that is why a strange smile crosses my face as the memory of it raping me comes to mind. I both hated it, yet something about it arouses me. I try to hide my growing manhood by bunching up some of the sheets around and turning on my side towards you.

“Fernand… I will hunt this creature with you. No more victims. No more rapes. This creature will die.” My eyes are cold and focused, staring at yours as I grip your hand. “Let’s do it together, as partners.”

Inspector Fernand Laurent:
I squeeze your hand and smile at you. I force my lop-sided grin at you. “You rest and recover, William. We will bring down the Beast together.” I kiss your forehead. “Now rest.”

I take another look at the scars he inflicted on you and leave. “I will not allow you to be in danger again,” I think. “This Beast is MY destiny, as is destroying him.”

Published: 2021-10-24, viewed 189 times.